


technicalities

by sheithshit



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst probably, College AU, F/M, Fluff, GUYS LIKE US ARE COOL IN COLL E GE, Hance - Freeform, M/M, Modern Day, Multi, SHEITH - Freeform, Smut, anyways; enjoy, i don't actually have a plan for this story but-, mallura??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheithshit/pseuds/sheithshit
Summary: Garrison Academy's biggest fear is a group of students and teachers who seem to fuck /everything/ up. Among them? An emo Korean boy who has trouble with English, an amputee who served two years in the Japanese army, two Italian geniuses who discovered a new planet, a Samoan boy with hundreds of community service hours and a heart of gold, and a Cuban who loves his family and, well, everyone. The most dysfunctional group on campus is the most promising and bright; isn't it ironic?





	technicalities

**Author's Note:**

> so!!! i finally finished this first chapter!!! yay!!  
> \- yes keith has gay sex for money  
> \- the song mentioned is wrong crowd by tom odell  
> \- no this is not klance  
> \- no this is not kallura  
> \- no this isnt really katt its more of just casual fuck  
> \- um?? constructive criticism is greatly appreciated but if you're a dick about it i'm gonna delete this  
> \- please comment + leave kudos because it inspires me to continue!!  
> my tumblr is @patientandfocused and my twitter is @vldcoalition PLEASE FOLLOW OK BYE

_But I can't help it, I don't know how_    
_I guess I'll always be hanging around with the wrong crowd_    
_I can't help it, I don't know how_    
_I guess I'll always be hanging around with the wrong crowd_    


Lance McClain believed that everyone was magical, in some way. Everyone had one special magic ability to them, however big or small it may be; and his magic power was waking up to the same song every morning at eight o'clock in the morning exactly. He wasn't quite sure if it was a blessing or a curse. The song was good enough, sure, but what if there was some hidden meaning behind his waking to it every morning? In the back of his head, he made note to ask his friend Keith about it. Keith was very involved in conspiracy theories, and dream meanings, and urban legends. His latest obsession involved something called the 'Mothman', though Lance had absolutely no idea what that meant.

As the thoughts drifted from his head, and his eyes opened wider, ocean blue and sparkling with curiosity, he took in how disgusting his dorm was. Discarded chip bags and old beer bottles from weeks ago laid strewn about, and Lance could smell how stale and heavy the air was. With a groan, he sat up, and went to open the window. Maybe, if he was lucky, it'd air out the stench. He never believed his mother when she called him messy, but maybe she was right. Lance only now realized how low his standards were when it came to tidiness; or lack thereof. A brief shower, a bleak breakfast of stale, generic brand cereal later and a change of clothing, Lance was out the door, somewhat prepared for the day.

Bags hung under his eyes, dark and demanding, but what college student wasn't tired? Lance was used to it, by now; it felt weird when he  _wasn't_ tired, as strange as it sounded. The girls and boys he winked at during his walk held the same tired glaze over their eyes as Lance did, but they still smiled, they still laughed, they still danced together and poked fun. He stuck his earbuds into his ears and started one of the songs from his happy playlist; the scene of laughter and joy surrounding him on this crisp autumn day in New England only grew perfecter. Upbeat melodies surrounded him and timed perfectly along with everyone's cheerfulness, but Lance was too caught up in his surroundings to notice the boy he slammed into. The Cuban boy slammed to the ground, groaning, shouting out in surprise. Whoever he'd slammed into didn't budge from their spot, until they- no, no, that was a man. The stranger crouched down, eyes full of concern, and he extended a hand.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" He gasped, and Lance hadn't heard that voice before. Strange; he'd thought he knew everyone around here. "Oh, your books... I'll help you! I'm so sorry! My name is Hunk Garrett. Nice to meet you, but also really sorry. Oh no.." Lance watched silently, confused, as Hunk began rushing around to pick up the books that were strewn about the pavement. He saw the scratches on his textbook and sighed, as those were expensive.

"Lance McClain," he murmured, sitting up and helping him grab the last few supplies and notebooks remaining. "Thanks for the help, but I've really gotta get to class. Don't sweat."

As Lance got up and scurried off, Hunk followed right behind, spewing off questions that Lance didn't have any answers to give. "What're you majoring in? Ooh, do you like it? Do you wish you could change majors? I haven't even chosen a major yet, I'm super indecisive. My therapist says I have a lot of trouble making decis-"

Lance whipped around to face him, scowling. "I'm  _trying_ to get to class," he said, his voice low. He was usually a very chipper boy, full of life and willing to conversate, but today was not his day. Maybe after a few classes of sucking up to the teachers and flirting with the person sitting next to him, he'd lighten up, but at this point, he wasn't sure. 

Hunk frowned, his brows knit together in confusion. Lance's arms were crossed and he waited silently and patiently for an answer. Lance wasn't quite sure if he was going to get one, or if Hunk would burst out into tears, because he definitely seemed like the type of person to do such a thing. But Hunk didn't cry, instead he cast a glance away and sighed; Lance could hear the despair in his voice. "Sorry," he breathed, tucking his hands in his pockets and rocking awkwardly on his heels. "I just... Sorry."

Lance couldn't say he didn't feel bad, because he did, he really did feel bad! But he  _did_ have classes to get to, and he  _did_ find Hunk's constant questioning a bit annoying, but he was intrigued by him. No one around here ever wished to put effort into conversations, or even have them at all, so Hunk's drive to do so was appealing. Attractive, even. Lance sighed softly and glanced up at him.

"Meet me behind the main building at four. Bring money and an ID." And with that, Lance was gone, his eyes sparkling once more. He was excited; Keith said he'd wanted to go out and do this for a while, but Lance didn't want it to just be him, Keith and whoever Keith planned on fucking that night. Was there someone he had in mind? Lance didn't remember or have the energy to wrack his brain for the information, so he took off, leaving Hunk confused behind him.

-

"Fuck, h- harder," Keith whispered, gripping at the sheets. He'd told his professor that he was sick, but that was beyond a lie. He'd gotten a call from one of his little friends- a frat boy in denial of his sexuality. His name was Matt, and he was one of the most active members in the campus' biggest fraternity, Kappa Sigma. This was their third time meeting, in Keith's dorm, and Keith had to say this was the steamiest of times.

The first meetings had been innocent kissing and nervous touching, like high schoolers having intimate moments for the first time. This was certainly not Keith's first sexual encounter with a man, but Matt was new to this, so Keith cut him some slack. Today was different, though. Matt had come in with a plastic bag full of condoms and lube, and  _fuck,_ he touched Keith in ways he hadn’t known possible before. Maybe Matt had brushed up on the subject with porn or someone else, but he drove Keith mad.

And now, here they were, with Matt thrusting mercilessly into Keith and sending him into a craze, hitting all the right spots, sending stars and black spots all across Keith's hazy vision. Keith moaned and screamed and cried out for Matt to please, please God, go faster, and he complied. Matt's voice went high and shaky as he quickly pulled out, ripped off the condom, and came heavily across Keith's chest. The latter boy followed suit.

It was in Keith's rules to not make conversation after sex. Matthew quietly grabbed for his shirt, and after he was fully clothed, he handed Keith over the $50 this session cost him. Keith nodded his head as a way of saying thank you, and he showed Matthew out without a single peep. The $50 that was added to his piggy bank- yes, yes, he had a piggy bank. It was a gift from his mother, before she left. Keith didn't have the heart to get rid of it.

The addition of Matt's money boosted Keith's finances to $500... That week. It was a good week for Keith, as the stress of school was really hitting a lot of people and they needed a... release. Quite literally. Some people called Keith a slut, or a whore, or a hoe, and Keith never once denied it. He was, but he was happy being one, and that was all that really mattered. It was his personal belief that if you were happy doing something, keep doing it, and punch whoever made fun of you for it in the face. Or just talk it out, but Keith was more of a fan of physical violence.

After a shower and a long look at himself in the mirror. Keith set out to seize the day or whatever dumb shit the world spewed off. Unlike Lance, Keith didn't see the world as happiness and unicorns and rainbows and cheer. He saw it as it was; hopeless and annoying. But that train of thought made Keith happy, and that was really all that mattered, right? He stepped around some annoying jocks who never once put the effort into paying him, but consistently catcalled him and laughed at the crop tops and shorts he wore. Not that he cared, but he did care, very much. With a frown, he walked faster, across the street and toward Sher Ka Mahal, an Indian cafe who's name roughly translated to The Castle of Lions. It was a rather unpopular place, but he and his small group of friends quite enjoyed it. The door swung open as he walked in, and the woman behind the counter perked up.

"Keith! I'm so glad to see you, it's been too long! Come here." Allura rushed around the counter and captured Keith into a hug, one that he struggled to wither out of. She was rather strong.

"Good morning, Allura," he murmured, finally pulling back and narrowing his eyebrows. Hugs always put him off, for whatever reason.

"Let me get you your masala teas! How have you been, darling?" Allura retracted from the hug, sprinted back to her area behind the counter, and started on Keith's order; two masala teas. There wasn't a day that went by where he didn't have one; if he didn't get some, he felt off for the rest of the day.

"Decent," he sighed, hopping onto a soft brown barstool and resting his elbows on the matching granite. Keith had always admired the overall aesthetic of the café- as much as he hated the word. It was very neutral, with soft tans, brick reds and deep, saturated purples sprinkled about the small establishment. Tapestries and photographs hung around, across every wall, making it feel cozy and comfortable. Keith couldn't help but admire it.

He only then realized that Allura had been talking as he looked around the cafe, and his eyes darted back over to her. Her arms were extended and her hands held the white styrofoam cups, ones that held Keith's tea. He took them, and in turn, handed over his debit card. After a few swipes- the card reading machine was always broken, he found- Allura handed the plastic card back to him.

"You've never told me who you give the other tea to," Allura hummed, propping herself up on the counter with her elbows and grinning smugly.

Keith rolled his eyes as he got himself off of the barstool. "None of your business," he objected, snickering and beginning his walk to the door. 

"But, Keith!"

Keith laughed, glancing back at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Bye, Allura!" He sang, causing her to shout out in protest as he exited. He laughed quietly to himself; messing with Allura was somewhat of a hobby for him. It wasn't in an outwardly rude way, though, more of a playful attitude. It was somewhat of a tradition as well; whenever they interacted, there was always some playful banter involved.

As he tore himself from his thoughts once more, his eyes rose from his sneakers, and right to the  _most attractive man ever._ Who was this? He'd never seen this tall, strong, handsome man before- No, no, stop that. Keith absolutely would not allow himself to think those thoughts. It was rule #1 in his personal rulebook; don't get attached to anyone. There were strict rules, for his own safety and mental condition, with his 'employment.' He had clients, and he didn't need an extremely attractive man like this stranger ruining that.

The man in question had a bionic arm and a long scar across the bridge of his nose. After realizing it wasn't just a trick of the light, Keith noticed a white tuft in his hair that fell across his forehead and just above his thick eyebrows. He wondered if it was dyed or a byproduct of a traumatic event. His late-night research sessions of popular folklore and conspiracy theories brought him to things like that; what was it called? Marie Antoinette syndrome, that's right. Keith found himself staring at the man, how chiseled his jaw was, his perfectly contoured his pectorals were-

His phone buzzed. Keith fished it from his pocket and saw Lance's name and an extremely embarrassing contact photo of him plastered across the screen. He turned away from the handsome stranger and swiped right, bringing the phone to his ear. He immediately heard Lance screaming.

"Slow down, slow down!" Keith interjected, between Lance's eager and excited screams. This wasn't unusual, he didn't think much of it.

"Keith! Keith, I found a r- really cute guy and I was so mean to him but I invited him to come with us tonight!" He was out of breath and panicking, Keith could tell.

He rolled his violet eyes and took a long sip of his tea, appreciating the slight stinging burn it left on his throat. "Come on, really? I was looking forward to just us, tonight. You suck."

"Okay, but you sw-"

"Lance, stop with the swallow jokes! You're not a fuckin' middle schooler."

"...Swallow."

But Keith chuckled anyways; his best friend was beyond annoying, sure, but he was also pretty damn funny. Keith always appreciated the fact that Lance could brighten up anyone's day. "Whatever. Why were you so rude to him? Aren't you like, the golden boy of the Garrison or whatever?"

Lance exclaimed, "I know! That's like, literally me! I kinda just realized how unmotivated and lazy I am this morning and my dorm still doesn't have warm water, so I guess I was pissed off? Not really sure, though. It's just a guess."

Keith wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, so he didn't respond at all. He, instead, changed the subject. "So, I'm meeting you guys there? I'm not giving you guys a ride."

"Yep! That works. But, hey, I suggest you find yourself a date. It's gonna be a long night, and I don't need you getting all whiny when Hunk and I... y'know..." Keith's nose scrunched up as Lance said that.

"You and Hunk aren't gonna get it on or whatever the hell you think is gonna happen, I can tell you that much. And, I don't think I'm gonna want a da-" The words left Keith's lips as he made eye contact with that beautiful stranger from before, and he decided that just for tonight, he could break his rules. "I'll call you back." Without another word, he pressed end.

He set down his teas on a bench and walked up slowly to the stranger, swaying his hips a bit more than usual. As he reached the taller male, he cocked his knee up and between his legs, causing the other to gasp, not expecting that.

"My name is Keith," he whispered, his eyes fluttering as he slowly looked up from his crotch and to his gorgeous, gorgeous face.

"And you, handsome, are going to be my date tonight."


End file.
